


progressively bigger keys

by layersofsilence



Series: where is the straight? [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, also he uses steve as a blanket all the time, bucky is perpetually amused, nobody picks up on his not-subtle hints, steve rogers tries futilely to come out, the Tragedy of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 04:31:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/layersofsilence/pseuds/layersofsilence
Summary: “A very little key will open a very heavy door.”― Charles Dickens, Hunted DownSteve and Bucky, it appears, have less need for a key and more use for a battering ram in trying to come out of the closet.(The one where Steve tries to do one thing (one thing!) without causing a national ruckus, but the press are determined to see Bucky as Steve's best friend. Andnothing more.)





	progressively bigger keys

**Author's Note:**

> 100% inspired by those articles where kristen stewart's girlfriend was suddenly her "live-in gal pal!"

“Do your teammates know?” Bucky asked one morning. It was an entirely unremarkable morning, really: morning light, only slightly dirtied bedsheets, lots of warmth trapped between wherever two supersoldier bodies may or may not have been touching, which was in every place possible. It made for the warmest bed, and possibly that was what made the question unexpected enough that Steve froze, a rabbit in the headlights.

“Know about what?” Steve asked a second later when his body had decided to start obeying him again, even though he knew he was shit at being innocent when he knew what was up. Bucky rolled his eyes and humoured him.

“About us, punk,” he complained. “Jesus, is the age finally getting to you, am I gonna have to start spelling everything out –”

“Shut the fuck up, I don’t want to talk about it,” Steve said, and tried to distract Bucky with a kiss. It worked, to his credit, although only for about as long as the kiss lasted.

“So they don’t know,” Bucky said, some minutes later when the two of them have drawn away from each other into the positions they’d woken up in, face-to-face. Steve dropped his head onto Bucky’s shoulder and whined.

“I just. Don’t know how to tell them,” he admitted. “I _like_ them.”

“You don’t have to,” Bucky said. “I get it, if you don’t want to, or you…don’t…want to…” he trailed off, uncertainly, and looked vaguely like he was going to repeat himself a third time.

“I _do_ want to!” Steve insisted, all fired up at the prospect that Bucky might be content to stay a dirty secret, that maybe he thought he deserved it. “I’d tell the whole damn word, I’m not a bit ashamed of you or me or us –”

“I know that!” Bucky said, and the smile on his face looked like it was holding back laughter, then, instead of sadness. Steve firmly believed that that happiness should always be in Bucky’s smiles. “I do! If you’re not ready – you don’t have to be. I just wanted to know if any of your teammates knew.”

“I think Natasha does,” Steve said. “Maybe Sam, from when we were looking for you…I don’t know if he drew any conclusions. I don’t know about the others.” He hesitated, looked at Bucky with something that was maybe a little uncertain on his face. “Do you want them to?”

“I think so,” Buck said. “They’re your teammates, they should – I mean, you like them. And you trust them. So.”

“So,” Steve echoed.

Bucky shrugged, the sheets tangled rather majestically around his ankles. “Also I could cuddle you more?” he offered, half a question and half a proposition, and Steve grinned and said, “sold,” because, well, he was.

“Guys,” Steve said even more minutes later as he walked into the communal kitchen, holding Bucky’s hand. Instead of their usual simple clasp, he was defiantly holding their intertwined hands at a slightly unnatural angle in order to capitalise on the bright morning light streaming through the kitchen windows and make it extremely obvious that the two of them were holding hands and walking a little too close to each other to be considered entirely platonic.

Clint, Bruce and Tony stared, although Bruce just smiled, after a second, and took another strawberry from the plate in front of him. Natasha, Sam, and Thor continued drinking their morning beverages of choice without batting an eyelid. Steve breathed out, a little. Bucky, that asshole, was smirking. The worst part was that Steve knew half of the reason Bucky did that so obviously was because it distracted Steve from being anxious, and it worked even though Steve knew what was happening. Bucky was the worst.

“Cap,” Tony said, eyes on their intertwined hands. “Morning.”

“I’m gay,” Steve said, and glared defensively out at everyone. Bucky squeezed his hand, probably reproachfully; Steve didn’t turn his head to see the expression on Bucky’s face. It maybe, possibly, wasn’t the best way to come out, but he would fight them if they weren’t okay with this; he’d spent too long in a place where nobody was alright with it, where he himself hadn’t entirely believed it was acceptable.

“You’re bisexual,” Bucky corrected, still apparently totally oblivious to whatever tension Steve may or may not have been feeling. Despite Steve’s best efforts he felt himself relax, slightly, at the ease with which Bucky dragged Steve over to sit next to Natasha. She clapped a little and gave Bucky a waffle when they sat down. Steve suspected it was positive reinforcement for something but he didn’t know what, and squinted suspiciously at the very quickly emptied floral plate. “I’m gay. We researched this.”

“Okay, but,” Steve said. “We’re together. _Together_ together.” He glared out at slightly nonplussed faces and had no idea whether that was a good sign or a bad sign. Bucky put a chunk of waffle on a fork and held it out in front of Steve’s mouth. Faced with a choice between maintaining a fight-me glare or having some waffle, Steve relented and took the waffle. He only realised a second later that that had probably been positive reinforcement, and he’d fallen for it.

“Well,” Tony said. “I’m kind of offended that everyone else seemed to know –”

“You didn’t?” Natasha asked. She managed to look wickedly amused despite the caramel smeared at one corner of her mouth. Tony sputtered, and put his knife down on the table with a clang to point at Bucky and Steve with his less threatening honey-drenched fork.

“I _suspected_ ,” he insisted, and Steve couldn’t quite tell whether he was bluffing or not. “But I’m offended you all seemed to _know_.” His honey dripped off his fork and onto the table, where it did an impressive job of blending in with the wood.

“To be fair,” Bruce said, “they didn’t tell anyone. But.” He made a few wiggling hand gestures that seemed to make sense to him before colouring slightly and grabbing at the plate of strawberries.

“Oh,” Steve said, deflating slightly at that as Sam and Thor nod in agreement. “So you guys are – okay? With us?” The glare melted into the uncertainty it’d been trying so hard to protect, and Steve wasn’t entirely sure what his face was doing. For the first time since they’d come into the room Bucky straightened and glared around at the table, which meant that Steve probably looked anxious as fuck and Bucky was promising a swift and painful retribution to anyone who disappointed Steve. It was touching but also a little counterproductive, considering he wanted to be accepted for his sexual orientation and not for his boyfriend’s glare. Natasha kicked Bucky under the table.

“Yeah, Rogers,” Tony said, among other various murmurs of agreement, some more supportive than others. Both of them relaxed, then, and Steve tried not to think about exactly how much they’d cared about their teammates’ reactions. It didn’t quite work, but from the smiles surrounding him his teammates didn’t mind the undoubtedly sappy look on his face.

There were a few moments of not-quite-awkward silence before Dum-E nudged Bucky’s arm excitedly and beeped loudly. It broke whatever remaining tension was still in the room and also served the far more superior function of bringing a sunshine-bright smile onto Bucky’s face.

Steve was besotted enough that he just stared, for a while, until Bucky caught his eye and smiled back and Steve could hear Tony muttering, “Wow, were they that obvious before? They weren’t, right? I wouldn’t have missed that. That’s kind of gross.”

~*~

It was a few weeks after that that Pepper broached the subject of coming out more comprehensively.

“I can arrange a press conference, or an interview, with one or both of you,” she said. Her smile was one of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing. It was extremely reassuring. “Just think about it,” she said. “Whatever you want.”

“Oh my god,” Tony said later that evening when they were all sprawled over the communal level. A lot of nights were spent like this, with people who didn’t necessarily interact with each other but found some comfort in just existing in the same space with other people. “A press conference?” He yanked out his phone and pressed buttons vigorously under Steve’s slightly confused glance. Bucky, having kept his word and taken their coming out to the team as an opportunity to sleep on top of Steve as much as possible, seemed more interested in the meat of Steve’s shoulder than what Tony was doing. “Pep?” Tony asked into the phone, successfully re-attracting at least a part of Steve’s attention. “Pep, Pepper, light of my life, you cannot let Capsicle and his boyfriend loose on live television, do you not remember how all those other press conferences went – do you not remember the FOX incident –”

“I’m not that bad,” Steve protested weakly. Tony gave him a look so disbelieving it was frankly impressive, and even Bucky roused himself from snoozing on top of Steve to say, “You kinda are, sweetheart.”

“Well, that’s a fine thing to say to the man you’re sleeping on,” Steve said, briefly and not very sincerely trying to push Bucky off him.

“And with,” Tony added, and cackled. Natasha and Bruce both gave him unimpressed looks, which Steve appreciated. Bucky grinned into Steve’s neck, which Steve appreciated slightly less, but then bit down very gently on the column, which: it was definitely worth putting up with his positive reactions to bad jokes.

“Just don’t make it Fox News and we’ll be fine,” Steve said, in a voice slightly less steady than it had been a moment ago.

“Really,” Tony asked dryly. He’d averted his eyes from Steve’s neck and its general vicinity. Steve could almost see the vampire jokes he wanted to make.

“Maybe give us lines,” Bucky added optimistically, along with another sweet closed-mouth kiss against the skin of Steve’s neck. Steve was absolutely going to melt. Tony groaned. The rest of the team, apparently having been listening in the entire time, joined him. Even Bruce looked sceptical, which would have been rude if it wasn’t such a well-deserved expression.

“Do we not remember last week?” Natasha spoke up to say. “Literally last week, Steve. And you had lines. Nice, slightly passive aggressive, uncontroversial lines Pepper and Maria and probably a bunch of other people worked hard on.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “That one was on me. But in my defence, I couldn’t let him –”

“Say those things about them,” Nat finished. “We know. They’re _all_ on you. I’m thinking a press release is going to be as calm as we can make it, but –”

“I’m not coming out through a press release,” Steve protested. “It’s so _impersonal_ –”

“We’ll have to face the press sometime anyway,” Bucky said. “I’d rather we do it all at once.”

“Fair,” Tony said. He’d hung up the phone sometime while Steve was making a futile effort to defend himself.

“I can be non-combative,” Steve said, knowing it’s a lie. Bucky snorted into his neck, which tickled and would have made Steve move away from anyone else. Really, Bucky was in an incredibly privileged position.

Incredulous laughter from all sides of the room distracted him from Bucky; apparently none of his teammates thought that he had it in him to be non-combative. Even Clint, who had been the only one not paying attention to the conversation since his hearing aids were out, snorted loudly when Natasha signed at him. It was probably a good call from all of them but Steve was not going to admit that.

“Fuck you all,” Steve grumbled. “I’ll come out non-combatively. I’m going to do it. And then I’m doing a calm and tranquil press conference.”

“Nobody’s ever heard of a calm and tranquil press conference _ever_ ,” Tony observed. “And you think you’re going to be the one to achieve it first?”

“If anyone could,” Bucky said, and left the rest of the sentence diplomatically unfinished as the team turned to stare incredulously. Even Steve turned with raised eyebrows. Bucky shrugged.

“Alright,” Tony said, “but also, can you imagine for a second that Cap isn’t leading you round by the dick and rethink your answer?”

“That’s rude,” Bucky objected. “If anyone’s leading anyone –”

“And you’re gone,” Clint said. Steve hadn’t expected him to actually get up and start pushing, and neither had Bucky, which was probably the best explanation for how they found themselves, barely ten seconds later, in an elevator heading back up towards their own floor.

~*~

“Captain Rogers! Sergeant Barnes!” someone yelled at them. The voice could belong to a woman or a man and with the amount of gunk on his face and in his eyes Steve couldn’t really see.

“Now’s not the best time –” he started, but was overridden anyway. The person should have been able to infer that it wasn’t the best time considering the small army of slime-spitting gremlins that still littered the street but apparently covered in slime was the perfect look to attract reporters and their microphones.

“I just wanted to compliment you on your shooting!” the possible-reporter gushed happily. “I didn’t know it was such a strength of yours! Obviously Bucky’s a sniper but your shooting was straighter than one of Hawkeye’s arrows!”

“Don’t let him hear that,” Steve said in an attempt to make the reporter laugh and then take that opportunity to escape. The reporter did laugh obligingly, but Bucky spoke up before Steve could capitalise on the chance to run.

“Shooting’s about the only think either of us can do straight,” he said, and then left with Steve while the slightly forced laughter turned into genuinely forced and also confused laughter.

“Shooting’s about the only think either of us can do straight? Really, Buck?” Steve asked, more amused than anything else. “Do we really want to come out via bad jokes?”

“What other way is there to come out?” Bucky asked, perfectly reasonably.

“Did I really hear you say that shooting’s the only thing you can do straight?” Clint asked about halfway through their meal at the shawarma place. Steve stared. Bucky shrugged.

“You did not hear that,” Steve said. “You weren’t anywhere near us. You read Bucky’s lips.” It was Clint who shrugged, then.

“See you, then,” he corrected, but by then the rest of the team were onto them.

“Barnes, nobody’s going to publish that,” Tony said. “Literally nobody.”

“I’m with Tony on this one,” Natasha said, and Bucky shrugged.

“Steve was the one who wanted to come out publicly. He can do the serious talking and I can make the bad jokes. Historians can look at it retrospectively and think, yes, _foreshadowing_.”

“Are you coming out officially?” Sam asked, and at Steve’s nod he whooped and picked up another shawarma and ate it in celebration. Steve was pretty sure that wasn’t actually how people were meant to celebrate good news.

“Oh god,” Tony moaned. “Pepper’s going to have nightmares, I know it. She’s going to wake up whispering _Steve Rogers is coming out_ and then I’m going to have to put up with her saying your name in _bed_ – I’m begging you, do it quickly. Rip it off like a Band-Aid –”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve groaned. “I’m not that bad. I can come out non-combatively.” He picks up the nearest piece of cutlery – a spoon – and points it at Tony.

“Non-combatively,” Tony repeated. “You, Steve Rogers –”

“Oh, let them try,” Bruce said. “What’s the worst that could –”

“ _No_ ,” Tony said, picking up a fork and pointing it at Bruce. “You do not get to jinx this.”

“I’m not –”

“Stop,” Tony said. “This is going to be hell on Pepper’s nerves, don’t make it worse.”

“You’re not really a non-combative person,” Natasha offered.

“Just because I’m not a non-combative person doesn’t mean I can’t do things non-combatively,” Steve said. He brandished his spoon around at the table and received the scintillating response of many shrugs.

“Okay, but let me at least tell Pepper that she gets to organise a press conference,” Tony said. His fork and Steve’s spoon are currently pointed at each other like the world’s most useless fencing match.

“Fine, yes,” Steve said. “A press conference. If Bucky’s okay with it.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m okay with anything, really. As long as you’re there. It can’t be worse than my trial.”

“ _Stop fucking jinxing things, oh my god_ ,” Tony hissed. He threw the fork at Bucky, who deflected it into Clint’s tabbouleh.

“Aw, food, no,” Clint whined, and withdrew the dripping fork from his plate. “If this was the tower,” he said, pointing the tines at Tony, “it would already be a food fight. And I already would have won.”

“Understood, but also, consider: robot sidekicks,” Tony said, and the table devolved into food-fight-related bickering, mostly Tony extolling the virtues of having robot sidekicks to throw food and also shield him, and Clint pointing out his accuracy rate over and over again.

~*~

The perfect opportunity presented itself only a few weeks later. Two guys had the temerity to go on a date to the Captain America exhibit in the Smithsonian, and, horror of horrors, dared to hold hands while they were at it. Steve himself hadn’t actually been there since he’d gone to find Bucky, and didn’t really care about what was happening in there, because as far as he was concerned it was a room paying tribute to a symbol very separate to his self, but he couldn’t tell that to the reporters without causing a lot of unnecessary trouble for Pepper.

One of the aforementioned reporters who had seemingly made it their life’s work to hang around Avenger’s Tower caught him as he was coming out for cereal. Their supply had just run out – everyone suspected Clint – and Bucky and Natasha, apparently, needed some right now, could not wait for JARVIS to place an online order and had deemed conning Steve into going an acceptable alternative. (It hadn’t technically been a con, it’d been Bucky’s face and the way he’d been so okay with asking for something, which still made Steve light up a little. Admitting that was wildly sappy, though, and it probably classified as a con in and of itself.)

“Captain Rogers,” the guy said, looking thrilled at the opportunity to stick a microphone uncomfortably close to Steve’s face, “how do you feel about that behaviour in your exhibit –?”

“They were holding hands,” Steve pointed out, because it was true. “And I don’t mind.”

The reporter frowned and faltered. He stepped back minutely. For a breathless moment Steve thought he was going to be able to escape but then the reporter rallied. “You…don’t mind?” he asked, as though the prospect was entirely alien.

“No,” Steve said. “I admire their courage. I hope I can be brave enough, someday, to do that. I absolutely advocate holding hands with someone you like.”

The reporter looked bewildered, so Steve went off to buy the cereal and felt rather too triumphant about the whole affair. He was around aisle five when the triumph wore off and he wondered whether that had perhaps been a little too easy.

“I came out,” he announced through the mild doubt which had manifested at aisle 8, when he got back to the tower with three of the biggest boxes of cereal he could find in tow.

Bucky and Clint were involved in a bitter and intense thumb war on the red couch with a lot of threatening eye contact involved, but both of them snickered at the announcement, and called a temporary truce.

“You said you advocated holding hands,” Bucky said, pulling up an article on the phone. It was almost too small to be read, but when Steve squinted he could see text:

_HAND-HOLDING GOOD FOR US, SAYS STAR-SPANGLED MAN WITH A PLAN_

“What,” Steve said, flat. Bucky collapsed into snickers at the voice.

“I think they put what you wanted to say right down the bottom,” he said, voice trembling a little with suppressed laughter, scrolling down and reading out, “Captain Rogers hopes one day to be brave enough to hold hands with his own loved one at his exhibit,” he managed to read, and then couldn’t anymore because the laughter has overwhelmed him.

“Fuck,” Steve said. “Fuck. I knew it was too easy.”

“I volunteer as tribute,” Clint said, raising his hand. “You can hold my hand anytime.” Bucky smacked a high-five onto the outstretched palm and snatched his hand away before Clint could engage him in another thumb war.

“I said I hoped to be brave enough to do that,” Steve said. “Referring to those two guys. I didn’t – oh, fuck,” he muttered, and sat down next to Bucky, who was still laughing, that asshole. 

“Too subtle, Stevie,” he teased. “I think that’s the first time I can accuse you of that one.”

“Shut up,” Steve said.

~*~

The mission had gone so wrong so fast that it would probably have been funny if Steve – and, more importantly to him, Bucky – wasn’t right in the middle of all the chaos as the slime they’d been trying to expel from 42nd street expanded into some sort of vaguely humanoid figure. Even that wouldn’t have been so bad in and of itself, because Steve had handled worse situations than this with less people on his side. The worst part was when the thing’s slime-body had turned out to be a lot more solid than slime was meant to be, and toppled the building Bucky was shooting from onto Natasha. Someone’s comms crackled loudly and went silent.

For a moment, Steve’s comms were full of shouts and exclamations of concern from everybody. It was grating and awful and he thought he hated it, hearing all those voices and none of them the one he wanted to hear.

“ _Fuck_!” Clint yelled, and an arrow bounced off of a wall near Steve. The slime thing roared and turned towards the source of it.

“I’m fine,” a voice said, and it was Nat, and Steve was relieved, of course he was, but he couldn’t help asking, “Bucky?” Silence descended over the comms and he realised the noise had really been the best part of the situation, because this soul-sucking quiet felt like a void.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know,” Nat said. “My legs are trapped under stone. I’ll be fine but if someone can come help me out it’d be great.”

“I – yeah, yeah, of course,” Steve said, because he was closest, and went over to help lift what turned out to be a banister and part of a wall off Nat’s calves. He very nearly dropped them on her after a moment where he thought he saw movement in another section o the building and his entire body had turned towards it like it was his true north, _Bucky Bucky Bucky_ running through him like a prayer.

“Fuck, did you see him?” Natasha asked, after she had scrambled to safety. Steve wrapped an arm around her when she stumbled and winced, ankle probably twisted and sprained if not broken.

“Sorry,” Steve said, and put the bits of wall down gently with his free hand. “And I – no. I don’t think so. It’s the wrong direction.” Disappointing her felt like a crime.

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe, somehow, without knowing Bucky was safe.

“Come on,” Natasha said gently, and led him towards the right direction. He started lifting chunks of stone away as gently as he could manage, terrified that he’s going to fuck up and send something tumbling down on Bucky.

It was Sam who found him, in the end, from his vantage point in the air. It was amazing how a universe could resume its rotation with only a few words: “I see him.” Steve slumped, strings cut; Natasha manoeuvred him onto a nearby rock and sat next to him while he tried not to shake and mostly failed.

“We got this, Cap,” Tony said. It wasn’t a platitude, either, because he’d managed to get his hands on some salt and the slime thing was shrivelling under its effect, making a horrifying sucking noise that was probably some sort of scream of rage.

“Go,” Natasha said, and rolled her eyes when he looked at her ankle and hesitated. “I’ll be fine, and you’re going to be useless until you see Bucky. Go.”

Steve went.

“Sam?” Steve asked, as he ran back to the tower. It was meant to be a jog but he couldn’t quite stop himself from sprinting. “Sam?” He was almost afraid to hear the answer.

“He’s fine, Steve,” Sam said reassuringly, and Steve had to stop running to let a wall hold him up, for a moment.

“Really?”

“He hit his head hard enough that there’s a bit of a concussion, and he’s cracked his femur, but he was lucky.”

“Fuck,” Steve breathed. Slowly, the world around him started to filter back in. “Fuck, I’m on my way now. Give me five minutes, max.”

He got to the Tower in three minutes. Bucky was awake when Steve marched into the room, and they reached for each other at the same time.

“Steve,” Bucky said, only slightly slurred. The way he pushed himself into Steve’s arms was everything. “Tell them I can sleep, it’s fine –”

“Didn’t Sam say you had a concussion?” Steve asked. Bucky pouted, and nuzzled closer to Steve.

“But. A small one. And I’m tired, and you’re warm…”

“Just walk for me, okay?” Steve asked, and pushed Bucky onto his feet despite protestations and lazy smacks. “Just walk in a straight line.”

“I can walk in a straight line,” Bucky said, looking immensely disgruntled at having to do it anyway. The line he walks was indeed very straight despite the limp that he was sporting. Steve felt like a heel for making him walk through a limp as soon as he noticed it, but Bucky was coming back towards him before he could do anything. “And hold a conversation, but they put me on painkillers for the thigh and you know it makes us sleepy –”

“Sleep, then,” Steve said, and let Bucky arrange the two of them to his satisfaction. He didn’t mean to fall asleep himself, but he must have done, because the next thing he knew Tony was shaking him awake and he was blinking indignantly at the too-bright glare of the lights above him.

“What – what –”

“Fuck off,” Bucky muttered, and shoved his face further into Steve’s chest. Steve tried to tug his arm away from Tony to wrap it around Bucky but Tony refused to let up.

“Tony, come on, let them sleep,” Bruce said, because he was a saint.

“It’s been like five hours, that’s enough sleep for supersoldiers,” Tony said dismissively. “I have a thing to show you, a great thing, the most amazing thing,” Tony said. “I’m going to frame it and put it in your room with that other great thing, Steve, wake _up_.”

“What?” Steve complained, sitting up.

“What?” Bucky echoed, in the same grumpy tone. 

“ _Look_ ,” Tony said gleefully, and shoved a magazine page in their faces.

 _CAPTAIN AMERICA AND BLACK WIDOW: SECRET ROMANCE?_ the page screamed.

“Ugh, go away,” Steve whined, although he wasn’t entirely sure whether he was talking to the writers of that particular article or Tony, who had descended into maniacal cackling. Both, he decided, he definitely wanted both of them to leave him in peace.

“The best thing about the article is that it just latches onto Nat,” Tony said. “That super concerned look on your face was for Bucky but listen.” He cleared his throat ostentatiously. “You know that I don’t like to speculate, my dear readers, but as someone who’s been watching Cap for a while,” he read out, in a high-pitched and ridiculous voice, “I couldn’t help but notice that when the building went down Cap seemed unusually concerned for Nat, who was trapped under it, and he was certainly _very_ fast to rush over there and offer her his assistance. Swoon!”

“Fuck them,” Steve said, and snatched the magazine out of Tony’s hand. Then he threw it over at the opposite wall for good measure, and glared. The wall bore this abuse serenely, because the light paper was certainly better than the punches Steve has been known to aim at it in moments of particular frustration.

“Why _Captain_ ,” Tony said. “I do declare!” he managed to get out before he collapsed into giggles and occasionally muttered, “Swoon!” to himself.

“I need food,” Bucky decided, and tugged Steve out of bed to lead him across the room and out the door, which he locks behind him. He shrugged unrepentantly when Steve raised an eyebrow. “It’s not going to take him that long to remember JARVIS can unlock all the doors.”

~*~

Pride Festival was chaos: crowds of rainbow people, too much confetti, and noise levels that were probably unhealthy for any normal person. It was so fucking joyful, and Steve loved it, even if he thought this celebration was probably responsible for half the hearing loss in New York. He was of the firm opinion that this was the best kind of chaos there was.

And this year he had an ulterior motive for embracing the madness. He absolutely couldn’t fuck up coming out during Pride Festival, Steve thought. He’d painted his shield in the rainbow and gotten a new suit in the colours of the gay pride flag. Bucky was in bisexual colours. It was wonderful. And, even better, it was not subtle at all. Tony would probably bitch about it later but subtle and non-combative were two very different things and Steve could be blatant if he wanted to, probably.

“I think there’s people taking pictures of us,” Bucky half-yelled to be heard over the crowd. Steve grinned. “Wanna give them a show?” Bucky continued, and pouted in exaggerated fashion when Steve shook his head.

“I said non-combatively,” Steve shouted. “Wouldn’t kissing on the streets count as combatively coming out?” He wasn’t sure whether it would be the aggression with which he kissed Bucky or the extent to which other people might be offended by kissing in the streets which would make up the combativeness of coming out but he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk it, because Tony would bitch forever if he thought he could classify Steve’s coming out as combative.

“Not a bit,” Bucky said, and then kissed him, very persuasively arguing his side of the case. Steve found himself quite literally wordless in the face of such eloquent argument, and kissed back ardently.

It is some minutes later, after Steve has gotten himself back to rights and Bucky was sporting mussed hair and swollen lips with aplomb, that someone shouted “Captain America!” with unholy glee. Steve took Bucky’s hand and ducked in the opposite direction in a futile attempt to escape.

“Yes?” Steve asked, once it became clear that this particular person was determined not to be lost in the crowd.

“I see you’ve painted your shield –?” is as far as she gets before Steve seized the opportunity to actually fucking come out this time and cut her off.

“I have,” he agreed, nodding quickly. “Very much. Queer rights is such an important issue and one that’s deeply personal to me. I’m so glad to be a part of this parade and –”

“Thank you!” the reporter said, looking rather thrilled and running off.

“I think I pulled it off,” Steve said as he turned back to Bucky. Bucky pressed one, and then two, and then three celebratory kisses onto Steve’s lips. The third kiss may or may not have exceeded the commonly held boundaries of celebratory kissing and ventured into foreplay, but it was Pride March and Steve had just come out, he was allowed a slightly-more-than-celebratory kiss.

All Natasha did when they get back to the tower was hold up a magazine.

_CAPTAIN AMERICA SPEAKS OUT_

“That is a good title,” Steve said. The photo was of him at the beginning of the parade when he’d nearly dropped the shield in the breathless moments after a certain someone (Bucky) had pressed up against his back for an instant before moving away, but it was still a decent photo that very much showed the rainbow on it.

“It’s an even better article,” Natasha said with a smirk. Steve only needs to flip a few pages to find what she meant.

 _This morning, CAPTAIN AMERICA has spoken out in support of the LGBT population! The man was bearing a rainbow-coloured shield and sporting a new haircut –_ the article started. Steve frowned.

 _Maybe we’ll see our favourite new ally on the arm of a new woman sometime soon! Sources say they saw the good Captain marching with a red-headed woman – stay tuned!_ the article ended. Steve frowned harder.

“But,” he said, and then stopped because he had no words. “But.”

Natasha cackled. Bucky joined in.

“Favourite new ally,” Bucky said, because he’d apparently been reading over Steve’s shoulder. “I _can’t_.”

“I’m not a fucking ally!” Steve protested. “I’m fucking gay, Buck!”

“You’re bisexual,” Bucky corrected. “I’m gay. Stop trying to steal my identity.”

“I’m not – I’m _queer_ ,” Steve fumed. “Fucking ally, I swear to god, I was kissing you –”

“They were very good kisses,” Bucky agreed serenely. “We should give them another go.”

“But I need to tell them I’m bisexual,” Steve complained, shaking the magazine that was still in his hand. “I’m the B in LGBT.”

“You know you can say bi,” Natasha said. “You don’t have to say bisexual all the time.”

“I’m bi and bisexual,” Steve said, throwing the magazine at her. She caught it out of the air and started tearing out the page very carefully. “Oh, fuck, no, don’t do that,” Steve said. His head found its way into his hands. “Oh god, Tony’s going to frame it. _Why_.”

“Why not,” Natasha said, carefully folding around the picture and placing it in a previously unseen pocket of her suit. Steve could hear his imminent demise in the crinkling of the page.

“Okay, but if they got a source talking about Nat and me there has to be someone talking about us kissing,” Steve said. When he turned to Bucky the other man still looked like he was trying to hold back laughter. “I spent at least twice as long kissing you as walking with Natasha.”

“And I’d like to continue that,” Bucky said, the smile on his face belying his grumpy tone. “ _Someone_ keeps complaining about some tabloid article.”

“Okay, but before you go back to necking, I have advice,” Natasha said. Steve turned to her dutifully, because advice given by Natasha was never to be taken lightly. “I don’t care how much you want to correct this tabloid, but don’t go up to someone and shout that you’re not an ally. I guarantee you they will start writing articles about how you’re homophobic and also support traditional family values.”

“All right,” Steve said resignedly, because he had to admit that was a good point. “Fuck them,” he added, when Natasha made no further movement, and then turned and kissed Bucky very thoroughly so that she would go away, which she did.

“Fuck _me_ ,” Bucky said once the elevator doors had closed, and tugged Steve towards the bedroom.

~*~

“Captain Rogers,” the FOX news anchor said very respectfully. Steve gritted his teeth. The entire interview had been nothing more than a series of increasingly insulting barbs about progressively petty issues. While Steve understood the need for someone to do a debrief with the press every time one of the Avengers so much as looked at someone wrong he hated being the one to draw the short straw and play nice. “Just wrapping up now, do you have any comments to address the recent speculation about you taking part in the Pride March?”

“Yes,” Steve said, perking up. The anchor looked abruptly anxious. That expression on Steve’s face had not, traditionally, meant good things for FOX news. “I said it was a deeply personal march for me and I stand by what I said, which is to say I’m gay –” 

“And we’re going to cut that there,” the reporter said loudly, making accompanying cutting-throat motions over at the camera and sound men and turning to the camera with a smile. “Thank you so much for your time, Captain,” she said with a cloying smile, and Steve was hustled offstage.

“Did any of that get on air?” he asked his makeup-and-electronics person despondently. The guy shook his head.

“You’re on a thirty-second delay,” he said. “I’ve never met anyone who warranted a thirty second delay on live interviews.”

“Fuck,” Steve muttered.

“Are you actually gay?” the guy asked. His light fingers moved to take the microphone off Steve’s collar while he patted Steve’s face down with a powder puff of unknown origin.

“Yes,” Steve muttered unhappily. “I’ve been trying to come out for a month.”

“D’you want my number?” the guy asked, somewhat hopefully.

“Um,” Steve said, and then took a pen out of the makeup-and-electronic guy’s hand after it appeared there alarmingly suddenly. “I’m actually with someone.”

“Oh well,” the guy said. “I didn’t think I was gay anyway.”

“You didn’t think you were gay?” Steve asked. He returned the pen somewhat warily, slightly afraid that a number was going to be written down and shoved in his pocket; thankfully, the other man only put the pen back in his own pocket where it was unlikely to jump out at Steve.

“I was going to give it a shot,” the guy said with a careless shrug. “I guess if it’s not meant to be, right?”

“Um,” Steve said. “Right.”

Apparently this was the right thing to say because it led to Steve being summarily ejected from the studio and sent home in one of the fancy cars Tony had insisted on giving everyone. Usually being summarily ejected from premises was not such a good thing but this was FOX studios and in Steve’s view anything that got him out of there was an excellent thing.

“I particularly liked what you had to say about that turtle,” was the first thing Bucky had to say when Steve let himself in. “Very inspired.”

“Thank you,” Steve said. “I tried to come out.”

“You what?” Bucky asked indignantly. He sat up from his reclining position on the couch and turned the TV back on as though if he did it quickly enough he’d be able to catch what Steve was talking about.

“It didn’t work, obviously,” Steve said. “Apparently I’m on a thirty second delay.”

Bucky cackled, because he was an evil bastard who took joy from Steve’s suffering.

“You poor thing,” he said, tugging until Steve’s head was on his lap and he could card his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“It’s like I’m not even saying anything,” Steve said. Bucky’s finger was conveniently close to his mouth, so he kissed it. Bucky doubled over to kiss Steve’s forehead in retaliation. It was like exchanging blows during a fight, but infinitely better. If he could Steve would only engage in this one fight for the rest of his life.

“They hear what they want to hear,” Bucky said. “It’s not on you.”

“I know,” Steve said. It was nice to hear it, though he wouldn’t admit that out loud. “It’s just frustrating. I’m starting to think that we could go out and kiss on the streets and they wouldn’t notice somehow.”

“We’ve already done that,” Bucky said. “At the Pride thing. They seemed more interested in you walking with Natasha.”

“To be fair,” Steve started. He felt like he should probably sit up to emphasise the statement or something but Bucky’s fingers were still in his hair and he loved that feeling, so he stayed where he was. “We were in the middle of a crowd. And we didn’t look like us.”

Bucky just hummed, and tugged at Steve’s hair a little more.

The tranquillity is utterly shattered when Tony banged his way into the room. He was laughing so hard that he nearly knocking over two tables and a chair before coming to a stop in front of Steve and doubling over with the force of his laughter.

“What,” Steve sighed, not really a question at all. Tony made a motion like he was going to shove a tablet at Steve and then looked at his empty hand dismally.

“Fuck, I must have dropped it,” he sighed. “FOX News contacted me –”

“Oh yeah? And what did those fuckers have to say?” Steve asked with so much spite that he was a little surprised he didn’t turn into a salt mine right then and there.

“They said –” Tony gasped, and pressed his head into the sofa cushions. “They said I needed to tell you that _gay_ doesn’t just mean _happy_ these days –”

Bucky started laughing, with every appearance of helpless amusement. Steve groaned, loud and drawn out, and somehow it turned into a laugh as well.

“There are _connotations_ now, you know –” Tony managed to get out, and the three of them are lost again.

~*~

“We’re going on a date,” Steve said, two days after the disastrous interview with FOX and subsequent email. Tony had kept his word and framed it, along with the other magazine article about walking with Nat, and presented them both to Steve that morning, which was inexcusable. Clearly, something drastic needed to be done about the Situation, as Steve was referring to it in his head. And there wasn’t much that was more drastic that Steve was actually willing to do than taking his fella on a date (he absolutely was not having public sex with Bucky no matter how many conservatives it might scandalise, thank you Tony).

Bucky blinked up at him. His hands stilled on the knitting needles he was holding. “We what now?”

“We’re going on a date,” Steve repeated. “A public date. Where people can take pictures of us kissing and whatnot.”

“And whatnot? What does this whatnot entail?” Bucky asked, and propped his chin on his hands, voice pitched a little lower. “Tell me more.” Somehow he made it sound sexy even though he was still holding knitting needles and the scarf he was working on was cascading down from his chin like the stupidest red beard in the world.

Steve could feel the blush creeping up his neck and stubbornly refused to acknowledge it even as Bucky’s eyes flickered downwards and that slow hot smile spread across his face. “Relationship…stuff,” he said. “Holding hands. Sharing cups.”

“You sure know how to rile a guy up,” Bucky said drily, but he wasn’t saying no, so clearly Steve’s technique had worked just fine and Bucky needed to shut his face.

“Where d’you want to go?” he asked instead.

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Rogers, surprise me. You’re the one taking me out on a date, aren’t you?”

“I see how it is,” Steve grumbled. “I do all the work in this relationship. You can’t be fucked keeping the romance alive.”

Bucky wound the ends of his scarf around Steve’s neck and kissed his cheek. “I’m tying you up in red string,” he said. “I’m plenty romantic.”

Steve sat for a second, wondering whether the red string thing was a coincidence or whether Bucky had actually intended to give him the red-string-scarf as a romantic gesture, with all the connotations it entailed. Bucky gave away nothing and continued to knit peacefully.

“Fine,” Steve said, after several moments of deliberation. “Let’s go.”

“Now?” Bucky asked.

“Yes, now,” Steve said, and kissed Bucky’s upturned face, which apparently convinced him enough to put away his wool and follow Steve into the elevator.

Steve had briefly thought about going to the shawarma place, but that tended to be reserved for post-battle team bonding and he’d been conditioned enough that going there on a date felt strange.

The two of them wound up at Central Park, pointedly finding a somewhat peaceful place where they could simply relax against each other. Bucky re-wrapped his mostly-finished scarf around Steve once the two of them had settled down, and handed him the ball of wool to feed it to the softly clicking needles. Steve probably should have been a little indignant to be relegated the role of wool-holder but he was almost embarrassingly content just to watch Bucky’s needles moving, somehow creating rows of neat stitches at a speed that frankly defied comprehension.

He also watched with some awe as Bucky looked up from his work with a glare every now and again as if using a sixth sense to know when people were about to approach them. Those people very quickly decided, after a few seconds of Bucky’s pointed glaring, that whatever they were after wasn’t worth coming any closer. There had been a time that Steve would have been a little reluctant to use this power but those days had long gone and now he only pretended that he wasn’t relieved to be left alone for once.

“Ta-da,” Bucky said, and put the wool away, scarf completed.

”It’s lovely,” Steve said, soft and more than a little besotted. Bucky tugged on the scarf for a kiss and Steve obliged gladly. He only remembered after tongues had somehow involved themselves in the equation that they were in a public place, possibly with children around, and pulled away reluctantly.

“You can get me food now?” Bucky asked, voice tilted up to turn the statement into a question.

Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t protest as he pushed himself up and towards the nearest food vendor. He didn’t know what they were selling but it didn’t really matter, since by sending Steve to get the food Bucky had effectively waived his rights to complain about it.

“Thank you,” Bucky said sweetly when Steve returned to him with two hot dogs in tow and several camera phones aimed at him. The stall now had a long line of people waiting to try the hot dogs Captain America had unofficially and unintentionally endorsed.

Bucky tugged Steve down by the scarf – Steve was really starting to like the idea of wearing scarves more often, specifically this scarf – and kissed him very sweetly and very chastely, without any tongue at all, which was both a relief and a disappointment.

“Were those showy enough?” Bucky asked quietly as Steve sat down properly instead of uncomfortably leaning over for a kiss.

Steve frowned. “What?” he asked, before he remembered that this was supposed to be a coming-out kiss.

“Oh my god,” Bucky said, and looked utterly charmed. “You forgot, didn’t you? You forgot –”

“No –”

“That this was meant to be a coming-out kiss –”

“Shut up, jerk –”

“I love you,” Bucky said, and kissed Steve again. Steve couldn’t even object to being cut off so repeatedly in the face of kisses like those.

“Let’s go back to the tower,” he said, once the kisses had ended.

“We just got here,” Bucky said, and wiggled a hot dog at him. “At least let me finish this first.”

“Fine,” Steve grumbled, picking up his own hot dog. “Just remember you’re the one missing out, here.”

“I’m with you, that’s enough for me,” Bucky said, sweet and saccharine but honestly, too, under the playfulness. Steve was so in love.

The ended up spending another hour or so at the park. Bucky snoozed contentedly on Steve’s lap, and Steve thought he understood, now, the awe and joy that appeared on Clint’s face every time his cat came to sit on him, because the _trust_ that it must have taken Bucky, to let his guard down so utterly in such a public place with only Steve for company –

He didn’t even have words for it. Could only run his fingers through beloved midnight-sky hair and keep watch as Bucky had trusted him to, wordless and overjoyed.

It was late afternoon when they wound their way back to the tower, holding hands in the street and letting people stare all they wanted. It felt glorious, it felt like freedom, and Steve couldn’t stop smiling because of it. He tried to kiss Bucky under an as-yet unlit streetlight, but neither of them could make it work for more than a few seconds, the irresistible widening of their mouths into smiles interrupting the kiss. As far as interruptions went, Steve thought, smiling was one of the best ones there was.

“So I mean,” Natasha said from what was generally known as her armchair when the lift doors opened to the common room. It was, possibly, the first time that Steve had seen her even slightly awkward.

“This is the best day of my life,” Tony said. He did not appear awkward at all, and had the most shit-eating grin on his face. Bucky had tensed next to Steve, and Steve had to resist the impulse to do the same.

“What?” Bucky asked. “Something –”

“Not bad,” Natasha said quickly. “Not – I mean, in the usual way we mean bad. It’s not _good_ but it’s not bad.”

“Just have a look at this,” Tony said, and threw a phone at Steve.

 _CAPTAIN AMERICA GETS COMFORTABLE WITH BEST FRIEND IN CENTRAL PARK,_ the article screamed. Steve was pretty sure that his jaw dropped. Bucky took one look and started wailing, which may have seemed like an exaggeration except he was literally making a long-drawn out sobbing noise into Steve’s neck.

 _Captain America and his live-in best friend enjoyed a day out together in Central Park today_ , the website said cheerfully, before going on a spiel about the hat Bucky had been wearing and the hot dogs Steve had bought.

There was even a fucking picture of the kiss Bucky had pulled him down for and, much to Steve’s incredulity, it was captioned, _The good captain and his friend had no problem showing their strong friendship for each other!_ complete with exclamation mark. He showed it to Bucky, who squinted for a moment and then slid down the wall to bury his face in his hands.

“What the _hell_ ,” Steve said, trying to be indignant but feeling mostly numb and shocked. He very much wanted to throw the phone at the wall, but from the glare Tony was giving him he figured Tony would have something to say about it. He threw the phone back at Tony instead, and if the throw was forceful enough that Tony squawked and shielded his face then it was definitely an accident.

“They’re just so in denial,” Tony said, after he had removed his hands from his face slowly, as though Steve was about to launch more projectiles at him. “It’s _hilarious_ , come on, you have to admit it’s funny, Bucky’s with me –”

“I can’t _believe_ them,” Steve said. “What the hell do we have to do to get them to admit we’re a couple? Public sex in Central Park?”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky said, fluttering a hand over his chest in a mimicry of the girls in the films when they’d grown up. “Think of the _children_.”

“Children ought to know what a gay couple is, Buck,” Steve complained, but slid down the wall to join him in suffering.

“Do it,” Tony said, eyes alight.

“Do not have public sex,” Natasha said, and called Maria and Pepper, somehow, at the same time on a single phone. “Maria, Pepper, tell Steve and James not to have sex in Central Park.”

“ _Don’t do it_ ,” they both said immediately, along with other even more insistent words to that effect. Nat hung up on them and raised an eyebrow.

Steve wrinkled his nose. Bucky kissed it.

~*~

“Okay, so there are some good things happening,” Natasha said. “And by good I mean the things that you wanted to be happening.”

Steve sat up, a hand on Bucky’s head so the other man wouldn’t be too jostled by the movement. “Oh?”

“I mean,” Natasha said, “it’s Tumblr, so they’re the only ones taking it seriously, and it’s still not on any news channel, but still…” She passed over her phone and let Steve scroll through the post she’d mentioned.

It was mostly unremarkable, a series of photos and gifs that were all about him, similar to that one other post she’d shown him where someone had compiled a series of pictures of his butt. This time, though, it was what he’d fucking wanted people to notice in the first place: Bucky saying, “shooting’s the only thing either of us can do straight,” and Steve’s besotted expression; Steve and Bucky in pride colours, with the rainbow-painted shield; a blurry photo of the two of them kissing, where the only actual piece of identifiable paraphernalia through the cloud of confetti and crowd of people was the shield (a row of incredulous question marks followed that particular photo); and many pictures dedicated to their date in Central, Bucky wrapping Steve in a red scarf, kissing Steve, napping against him.

 _#W O W_ , the tags at the bottom read, _#everything is just so #emphatic??  #when its put together #how did we not notice this before omg #us #the tinhat collective #this man is truly a shining paragon of heterosexuality #such straight #much pals #just bros bein dudes_

It's followed by excited comments all along the lines of _thAT DATE THO_ and _OKAY BUT THEY'RE CLEARLY BONING_.

“Fucking finally,” Steve grumbled.

“It’s still not newsworthy,” Natasha said, and took her phone back. “Not while it’s only on Tumblr. But people are starting to see it, at least.”

~*~

“This is me asking for a press conference,” Steve said, leaning maybe a little too hard into the warmth of Bucky’s flesh shoulder, which is supporting him from behind. “Because, um. Nobody seems to have picked up on me and Bucky?” His voice tilted up at the end of the sentence, made it a question. Bucky snickered, and even Pepper looked like she was repressing a smile.

“For what it’s worth, I would never have predicted they’d be so…unwilling to see something laid out right in front of them,” she said delicately. “As soon as possible, I’m assuming?” At the responding nods from Steve and Bucky she nodded back, businesslike and as on top of things as ever, and said, “I’ll have everything ready in two days, max,” and excuses herself. Her high heels click on the polished floor, somehow growing increasingly more intimidating as she moves further away.

Pepper, who was doubtlessly the most punctual and ruthlessly organised person in the Tower, had everything ready for the next day by that evening.

“Maybe we should look at memorising some lines,” Steve said when Pepper delivered the news. Everybody groaned.

“Don’t get my hopes up like that, Steve,” Pepper sighed as she settled in next to Tony.

Steve rolled his head back to stare morosely at the ceiling. Bucky petted him gently.

~*~

The lights of the press conference room were absolutely blinding, white and sterile and shining right into Steve’s eyes like someone had pointed them at him deliberately. He wouldn’t put it past Pepper to have arranged something like that, he thought, and then the cameras started flashing wildly, the bright instants of light shining right into Steve’s poor abused eyes because everyone actually was aiming their cameras at him, this time. Steve tried to repress a scowl and wasn’t entirely certain that he succeeded.

“Good afternoon,” Bucky said while Steve was still distracted. The flashes paused for a moment, reoriented themselves, and started flaring brightly in his direction like they hadn’t quite remembered he’d existed.

“Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes are going to make a brief statement and take two questions,” Maria said shortly. She was only leaning over her microphone slightly and somehow it was intensely clear that she was absolutely in charge of the entire room. Even the usually incorrigible reporters settled slightly in their chairs in the face of her impassive expression, like cats trying to pretend it was entirely their idea to quiet down and listen.

After a few awkward moments of silence, Maria turned to look at Steve expectantly. Like spectators at a tennis match, the reporters all take this as permission to turn and stare as well.

“Right, so, um –” Steve said.

He looked down at his notes, which are less verbatim quotes – Natasha had said, “Don’t insult us by pretending you’re going to follow lines, Rogers,” which was, well, accurate – although right now he wishes they’d throw him a little more than _say you’re gay but DON’T START BY SAYING YOU’RE NOT AN ALLY, ROGERS_ in Nat’s neat scrawl.

“As most of you know,” he started, eyes focused on a crack on the far wall, “I took part in the Pride March a few weeks ago. Many of you seemed to believe that it made me an ally,” he took a deep breath, “when I’m gay – bisexual,” he corrected himself, shooting a smile at Bucky. “And in a relationship with another man.”

He’s not sure whether it’s planned or not, but at that point Bucky’s hand sneaked across the table, not particularly subtly, to intertwine with Steve’s. The reporters started shouting, and despite the fact that Steve was literally holding hands with the other man he’d brought to the press interview there were a lot of questions asking for the identity of the ‘lucky guy’.

“Um,” Bucky said, sounding a little bemused. “It’s me. I’m the guy.” He lifted his metal hand, still holding Steve’s. “That counted as a question, by the way,” he added into the surprised silence that this answer ushered into the press room.

“How long…?” someone asked. It seemed to reanimate the stunned reporters in the room, who started asking their questions again, albeit with less vigour than before.

“How long have we been trying to come out?” Bucky asked, deliberately misunderstanding the question because he could be a jerk like that sometimes. “Only about, I don’t know, six weeks? Apparently only Tumblr understands what subtle means.”

“It wasn’t even that subtle,” Steve grumbled.

“Oh god, don’t encourage Tumblr,” Maria muttered. Sadly, her microphone was turned off, so her record for being utterly unproblematic at press interviews continued.

“How long have we been together?” Bucky continued undeterred. “Since – ’33, I think, with some long dry spells in between.”

“That’s two questions,” Steve said hastily, “and technically we answered three. Feel free to direct the rest to Ms Hill.”

Maria glared at him ferociously as he picked up Bucky’s hand and fled.

“You’re the worst,” Bucky said once they’d left the press room and gone back to their own floor.

“I’m your worst,” Steve said inanely, but any inanity on his part could be entirely forgiven since Bucky had wormed a hand down his pants and was currently doing an excellent job of draining the blood from Steve’s brain.

~*~

Their second official date at Central Park involved a lot more staring and supposedly-subtle pictures of them by random citizens on their phones, but Steve was wrapped in red string and Bucky was cuddling up to him, tactile and lovely. Many approaching bodies saw that face and faltered, stepping back to allow him to continue sleeping. Steve’s glare and protective arms may also have had something to do with it.

In the moments Bucky is awake, Steve can’t help tugging him in for kisses, soft and sweet – under an as-yet unlit streetlight, lying on the grass, just before the mouth of an alley, while they waited at traffic lights. Bucky might have sighed and acted put-upon but Steve could taste Bucky’s smile in their kisses. It was addicting, and Steve wanted to feel it forever.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a [tumblr type thing](https://layersofsilences.tumblr.com/) and too much time, and yes, that is an invitation


End file.
